Broken Gates

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We were at war. And just like in every war there were casualties. Jenna, Jeremy, Bryn, and myself were the last of our kind . . . Speaker, Gatekeeper, Guardian, and Seer . . . respectively. Only a short time ago our kind had been thriving, our numbers many, but then the alien Riders that were trying to take over our world had exterminated them . . . because of me. If not for my visions, they’d all still be alive. The revenge I yearned to mete out would one day . . . hopefully . . . help me to assuage my feelings of guilt. I just prayed that no one else would suffer because of me . . . Too bad I forgot to pray for myself.

I knew something was wrong only an instant before the bedroom door slammed open. But in life and death situations an instant can mean the difference between one and the other. “Bryn!” I gasped, sitting up in bed with a start. I barely had time to register the threatening shape outlined from the lights in the hallway before a gunshot exploded in our direction. I reacted without thinking and threw myself in the path of the bullet in a bid to save Bryn from being hit. Unfortunately for me, that meant I would be the one getting a slug buried in my flesh. A flash of white-hot searing pain ripped across my shoulder just before a blinding light erupted in my head. Everything went silent except for a ringing in my ears and the rasping sound of my own struggle to breathe. I found myself praying that Bryn was okay just as everything went dark.

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